In case you haven’t noticed, I am fond of the dogwood. I lived in Highlands, North Carolina, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains for part of my childhood. I can remember as a 7 year old, on late Spring evenings, running in sock feet through hundreds and hundreds of dogwoods. Occasionally I would have to stop and pick the lichen off of my socks, and that’s when I would study the rough and scaly texture of the branches, juxtaposed with the softness of the blossoms. The way that one blossom, when it bounces in the breeze just right, casts its cool shadow on the next. It is in my opinion the most graceful of flowering trees. Graceful for finding a way to grow upwards towards the light. Graceful for the thin and delicate petals. Graceful for it’s beauty.
- Alan Shuptrine